This Other Life
by SSKFelton
Summary: Percy Weasley, after sacrificing a part of himself for the Order, was magically disowned by his family. Now, 3 years after the war, he's moving on with his life...  presumably dead and living under another name. AU now that DH is out. Great bk wasn't it.
1. Prologue

Prologue

**August 2001 – A café in uptown New York**

He was nervous as hell!

The young, red-headed, curly-haired, lean man fidgeted for the tenth time in the last five minutes. Anyone passing by his table outside the little posh café he favoured in uptown New York would swear he had ants in his pants. He was nervous!

He waited impatiently for his girlfriend yet dreading the moment she would arrive as well. He loved his olive skinned, dark curly haired, green eyed Caribbean born woman, and was hoping to God she'd say yes when he asked her to marry him. To share the rest of her life with him and he with her.

But would she say yes? Would she deign to continue loving him when he finally told her the secrets he'd kept hidden from her in the two years they'd been together? Or would she run in the next direction, screaming that he was mad.

He didn't want to think about it. He loved her, really loved her - and not just because she ended his four year long tradition of spending Christmas by himself when he'd met her in the jewellery shop she was working at, at the time. She was sweet, loving, understanding, didn't mother him around. She was quietly sophisticated and as smart as hell. In fact, she'd be finishing College in about two years.

He wanted to spend his life with her, dearly!

In the cold morning air, he was almost twitching in anticipation when Samara finally showed up at 7.30. He took a deep breath and stood as she approached. He stared at the vision she made with her bright, hopeful smile and short pink dress. She wasn't pretty by the conventional word but to him, she was the most beautiful person he'd ever seen.

"West!" she laughed, hugging him as she reached his side. West hugged her back. Tightly. This might be the last time she let him hold her.

He carefully sat her down on the chair across from him, then just looked at her. It was one of his favourite pastimes – just looking at Mara in animation. All hot-headed, blowing out steam from her day or going on passionately about the changes the world needed. Right now, though, she was just grinning at him, waiting patiently for him to speak though he could see she was visibly quivering with… excitement? Did she know?

"So?" she prompted coyly when he wouldn't say anything. "Do you have anything to ask me West?"

She did know! The minx!

"Maybe," he teased back, "Will you say yes?"

"Do you want me to marry you?" said his straight forward angel with all her brazenness and in a near delighted squeal.

"Do you want to marry me?" he hedged hopefully. He didn't want to drive her away with the truth yet. Happiness had been real thin on the ground these last seven years and he didn't want to let go of the current light of his life. His banking business was doing much better than he ever expected, but she was the centre of his world right now. He hoped she be that way forever.

"Yes!" it was a full out squeal that had passers by and other patrons of the café looking but neither Mara nor West noticed. His heart had missed a few beats then promptly soared at her one word and then she'd jumped in his lap. West hugged her full body to his, practically squeezing her until she squealed and laughed again. Beyond them, an old, cheerful, weather beaten gentleman whipped out a camera and snapped a quick picture. Neither lovers noticed.

"Oh my God!" Mara laughed in his ear while he inhaled the scent of her perfume on her throat, "I was waiting forever for you to ask!"

"Forever?" he kissed the little hollow he encountered while his fingers reached up to tickle behind her neck. She always loved his fingers.

Mara kicked her feet in delight at his touch, saying in a voice of wonder, "Yes! When I saw you at Davamonds two years ago, I just felt like we connected and then you looked at me and I knew! I knew we were meant to be. I had thought then that 'that's the man I'm going to marry!' If you'd asked me then I would have married you immediately after I finished my shift."

He had nothing to say to that. Who could top such women's intuition anyway – certainly not him. And he didn't want to. But…

He bit the nail on the head, so to speak.

"Samara, there's something I have to tell you. I've been lying to you for two years. I…" it all came out in a rush but she understood.

Apparently she thought the worst because she jumped off his lap and looked at him with an aghast expression. "You don't have a wife, do you!"

What! "Where'd you get that idea? No!" he insisted. Thank goodness he already knew she was crazy so he didn't take that accusation into question. She knew she could trust him… she always did.

"Then nothing's wrong then?" she asked suspiciously, taking her seat again.

West decided to take it like a dose of medicine. He took a deep breath, looked at the fountain next to them rather than at her, and let it all out. If she wanted to run, then he'd just spend the rest of his day off drinking himself into oblivion.

"Mara, I'm a Wizard! I know you think it's crazy, _that I'm _crazy_ for saying it_, but it's true! I'm a real Wizard and I can do magic."

Silence from the other side of the table. West forced himself not to look. Not to look. Not to look… He looked. His muggle girlfriend was just staring at him expectantly, still with the dizzy grin. West wondered if she heard him; he knew she was super-smart so she couldn't have misunderstood. Was she waiting for him to do a string of tricks for her or something?

"Well?" he asked, just wanting to get the storm over with. Quick and painless.

"Well?" Samara echoed, "You mean that's it? That's what you wanted too tell me?"

"You're not surprised, or disappointed or anything?" he questioned, a little light-headed from relief.

"Well… not really. I mean, I knew you were special and there were times when you just made things happen, you know. I began to suspect."

"So you're not surprised by the whole Wizard thing? You're not freaked out?"

She bent her head a bit to attempt hiding her pinkening cheeks, "I probably should have told you sooner… you see, my sister is a witch and my cousin as well. They went to the Caribbean Magical Guidance Association in Jamaica from when they were 12 till 18. I was so jealous! Now I have my very own magical husband!"

It was his turn to be shocked. "What! You're related to magical folk!"

"Yes."

This time, it was he who leapt across the distance separating them. He hauled her out of her chair and spun her around mid-air before he even knew he was doing it… he was so happy.

"Thank God! I thought you'd leave me and call me a freak or something!"

"I love you," was her reply. Then, "So when can we get married? I have exams next month so it'll have to be before or after…"

"Before," he said eagerly as his brain had not begun to function again yet. But then… "Wait," he set her down on the chair before kneeling and clutching her hands. "There is still something else."

"Yes?"

"Mara, my name is not Westley St. Clair. Not really."

"What?" This time, he had shocked her real good. She was staring at him like he had two heads and was a stranger. Well he was, but not really. She knew him inside out, just not how he grew up and how he acquired the money to start his business.

"It might take a while (about ten years) but I'll tell you everything, Mara, I promise."

"Who are you?" she asked softly, warily. West winced. She should be able to trust and love him implicitly – hell, she had! Now here he was, spoiling it.

"My real name is Percy Weasley…"

**December ****2009 – A very large house in the very posh side of Manhattan **

"Hey!" West called as he stepped in through the garage door of his and Mara's three floors, six bedroom, seven bathroom, four car garage home. He was tracking in snow but who cared. Everyone had finally been sent home for the holidays. With a mere five days till Christmas, the Bank had been more busy than usual but West put his lovely family above all else. In the fifteen years since he's left his parents' home and their warm love, he never forgot what family meant. He'd protect each of them with his life and right now, that meant being home for Christmas, days before old St. Nick finally came. And if that meant giving up a few million dollars, he could happily live with it.

But still, he frowned, tossing his red curls away from his eyes. This was highly unusual. Usually when he came home he was bombarded by his wife and kids… a ritual that he lived for if truth be told. Where were they?

"Hello! Daddy's home!" he called. He traipsed past the empty, forever untidy kitchen and into the living room.

"I'm lonely!" he called.

That got them. "Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!" two little voices wailed, not in unison, from the family room a few rooms away. Three pairs of hurried footsteps were heard with one leisurely one trailing behind.

One second before a wobbly toddler with brownish red curls and almost alabaster fair skin came around the corner, his older sister raced pass him, her curly black hair flying behind her as she threw herself into her father's waiting arms.

She sent her brother a smug glance as she hugged her Daddy, prompting him to start bawling at having lost their ritual race a second time in a row.

"Andrea!" her mother scolded gently as she appeared just seconds behind her daughter, "you might have let him win."

In response, Andrea nuzzled her nose to her dear Daddy's, giggling as he laughed.

West hugged his four-year-old precocious little darling close, watching his four months pregnant wife pick up their son, Niall, before coming to him. In perfect sync, he shifted Andrea to one arm and hugged the rest of his family with the other. Mara laughed and kissed him while one year old Niall giggled and patted his Daddy's chest, obviously happy he was home again. His business trip to Kansas had lasted three days, more than his little family could stand. He sighed happily, hugging them close. After being an outcast, not being appreciated, being told to get lost forever, and not trying to reconcile with the last family he had, he would forever cherish the one he created for himself, knowing he made them happy and they made him happy.

In the doorway where his wife and children had passed through now stood his mother-in-law. She had Mara and Andrea's curly black hair and olive, smooth skin, but instead of an all out smile, she wore a slight frown. West grinned at her, knowing she didn't love him any less than her daughter or grandchildren. It was the simple matter of, even after almost ten years, she still didn't want to admit that this Wizard with no family had managed to take her daughter and make her his own.


	2. Chapter 1

Oops! I forgot the Disclaimer for last chapter but… anyway, you all know who owns Harry Potter and his Universe and it ain't me!

**Chapter 1**

**September ****2019 – Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry**

As they stared, wide-eyed at everything they passed, Andrea and Niall St. Clair, fifteen and eleven respectfully, followed a tall, dark robed man with hair as blond as sliver down many halls. Professor Draco Malfoy, a man so handsome he almost made Andre blush, was leading them to the headmistress' office.

They were not new to magic – well not Andrea – but this castle, Hogwarts, wasn't something she'd ever seen before. Not even at the small but highly efficient and expensive academy she had attended when her family lived in America. She couldn't wait to write to her Dad about it all. Her Mum would write back of course, but the real person she'd told all her stories to – the one who'd understand and who was like her own personal Diary, was her Daddy.

"How much further can it be?" Niall whispered to her behind the Professor's back. He did it easily since he was nearly as tall as she even though he was four years younger. It was a situation that always grated on Andre's nerves; her dad was tall, her Mum was tall-ish and all her other family was tall as well. Why did she turn out so short? If she wasn't the spitting image of her mother, then she'd have suspected adoption.

The tall, oh-so-handsome teacher turned his head to glare at them for a moment before charging on again. Andre shook her head at Niall, sending him a mean, narrow eyed look, effectively shutting him up.

About five minutes later, they were in front of a stone gargoyle. Suddenly, Andre wasn't so sure anymore. She wished her father was here but he'd had to stay at the hospital with their mother so it was just her and Niall to get settled in into a new school – and a week into the Christmas term as well.

Apparently having one of his rare brotherly moments, or maybe he was feeling a little scared himself, her younger brother slipped his hand through hers and squeezed.

The professor whispered something and to the siblings' surprise, the gargoyle sprang to life and stepped aside with a bow.

"Up here," Professor Malfoy said tersely while ushering them up the stairs. Andre could have sworn he muttered then, "I can't believe I'm late for _this_! Gin's going to kill me, I can tell." Good to know they ranked so importantly.

From the rolled eyes and sour look on her brother's face, Andre deduced he'd heard as well and had the same sentiment she did. But for all that… the sarcasm and intimidation etc … she couldn't help being excited. Their father had told them that he was a Wizard when she'd received a letter from the Jiggles Academy for Magical Learning, then told them he'd gone to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in Britain. After they'd all pestered him, Westly St. Clair had told them that apart from them, he didn't have any other family so not to go looking for any magical relatives besides her aunts Flora and Leah. And they lived in the Caribbean anyway.

That didn't matter though. They may be cut adrift for the moment, but at least they still had the anchor of their father. She was just so excited to be going to the school he had gone to before her!

She followed her brother up the gleaming staircase and into a wide, circular room that was almost homey in garish red, gold, silver and green. However, it was filled with all sorts of magical junk they'd never seen before. Dimly, she remembered her mother's advice before their father had taken them out of the hospital, '_Don't touch what you've never seen before, don't understand or is animated in any way.'_

Her father had replied with a great bark of laughter and a chuckle of, '_You just ruled out the entire Wizarding world, love. It'd be easier to keep them locked away at home.'_

She looked, saw things that animated all on it's own and things she'd never seen before. But she didn't touch. And when Niall reached up to touch a spinning gold orb seemingly suspended in mid-air, she slapped his hand away.

"Uh Uh!" Guiltily, they both turned from glaring at each other to the Professor and the tall, thin, old, unsmiling woman at his side.

"I am Headmistress McGonagall of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," she introduced herself in a scratchy, self-important voice. "If you like, you can introduce yourselves."

"Is this really necessary?" Professor Malfoy drawled in the deepest voice Andre and ever heard.

"I'm Niall St. Clair," said her brother, "I'm eleven."

"And I'm Andrea. I'm fifteen."

"Yes," said the Headmistress, "the letters your father sent … well, we have been expecting you for some time." _At the beginning of the term_, was the unspoken end of the sentence.

"Our mother took suddenly ill," Andrea said quickly, her head held high. If there was one thing her father taught her it was not to apologise for something you don't need to apologise for and never let anyone brow beat you at anything you believe in.

"Alright." The Headmistress surveyed them haughtily and with pursed lips. It didn't have _too_ much of an effect. Westly and Mara St. Clair had raised respectful children, but not cowards. "As you missed the Sorting ceremony, you would have to be sorted here. But first, some rules."

The handsome professor took over, "Your curfew is eight and ten – be in your common rooms by that time or else." Common room? "The school has four Houses, Slytherin, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. You will each be sorted into one of these houses and there is where your loyalty and responsibility lie until you leave here. Your House will be your home. Am I clear?"

Andre and Niall both nodded.

"Good. Now the Forbidden Forest – the woods that you see surround the entire castle – is forbidden at all times. However, if you want to die painfully and slowly, you may take a jaunt at your convenience."

Andre gaped. "Draco!" Headmistress McGonagall scolded.

"Fine, Fine," he snorted, "the sorting?"

"Yes." McGonagall took an old, battered hat that was eons out of fashion from on top of her desk and held it out. "If one of you will step closer, this hat will tell you which house you belong to."

Andre was still eyeing the out of date ugly thing when her brother, tired of her stalling and the disgust on her face, went to stand next to McGonagall. The old woman placed to hat on his brownish red curls and a moment later, to Andre's pleasant surprise, it revealed it had a mouth when it shouted, "SLYTHERIN!"

That somehow brought a _really_ handsome smile from Professor Malfoy. McGonagall took the hat off Niall's head and, visibly confused, her brother walked over to her. "What does that mean?" She shrugged.

"Miss St. Clair?" When the woman called her, Andre had no choice but to go forward, though she still thought the apparel was way too out-of-date to suit her.

As the hat went over her head and nearly fell into her eyes, she heard a voice in her head. It took her a moment to realise it was the hat. The thing had a brain! '_Now, where to put you? You have the remnants of someone I sorted before, but who?'_

"My father, Westly St. Clair. He came to this school."

'_I don't remember sorting anyone by that name, but oh, well. Now where to put you? You're manipulative, I see, and bold. Slytherin would do well. But no, you're kind and sweet when you want to be … Daddy's little girl, eh? Loyal, very loyal, and daring too. Gryffindor would suit you well, but not, I think, as well as Slytherin. But wait – you're smart, bright and a little bit shy. Ah! You like to read! I know where to put you… RAVENCLAW!'_

Bewildered, she waited while the hat was ripped off her head before joining her brother in the land of confusion. What was that?

"Well, goodnight, children," said the Headmistress. "Professor Malfoy here will take you to your Houses. It's quite late… nine o' clock… so have a good rest and we shall introduce you to the school tomorrow. We have breakfast at half past six each morning and classes begin at eight."

"Come on," Professor Malfoy commanded, turning away. They muttered their 'Good Night's to the woman as they followed the tall professor down the stairs.

When they were out in the hall again, the Professor did that weird thing again. He looked left then right, rolled his light grey eyes and muttered, "I'm going to resign. Definitely." Then, "POTTER!"

To their surprise – most especially Andre's – a tall, well toned, half dressed, dark haired, emerald green eyed boy slinked forward from the shadows. He was almost as handsome as the Professor but in a way, he was more suited to Andre's taste. The Professor, after all, was as old as her father but this handsome guy with the devil in his eye, looked to be about her age. If a little too smug…

Andre just didn't like the self-assured smirk on his face, the permanent expression that said he knew he was good-looking, popular and everyone wanted to be him, nor did she like the way his eyes raked over her as he came closer. Despite herself though, she felt herself blushing and was thankful she was olive skinned so the blush wouldn't show through. He knew though, for his black, arched eyebrows arched higher, his smug expression deepened and he grinned. She looked away, preferring to look at his black baggy pants or white shirt instead, while wondering why this country had guys who looked like Gods. What was wrong –or right – in this place?

"Mr. Potter here," said their Professor with a glare in the dark boy's direction, "is the Slytherin representative in the Student's council as well as our – (here the blond's mouth twisted in displeasure while his protégé grinned cheekily at him) – Head Boy."

"Pleasure," Mr. Potter drawled deeply with a formal bow, making her blush deepen.

Beside her, Niall, true to his nature, lifted one of his slightly bushy reddish eyebrow, twisted his full lips in slight displeasure and surveyed Potter like he was trying to decide if the older boy was fit enough to breathe the same air they were breathing. In short, Niall didn't like him either.

"I shall leave you in his capable hands," said the Professor hurriedly, already walking off. "Potter, see that the girl gets to Ravenclaw and is settled in properly, then take the boy to Slytherin."

The boy laughed deeply and loudly, looking after the Professor while calling out, "Afraid Aunt Ginny will roast your arse, Uncle Draco?"

So fast that the two St. Clairs almost missed it, the Professor tossed a curse without looking over his shoulder and quick as lightening – no doubt from practise – Potter the Head Boy dodged.

"So, what are your names and where are you from?" he asked as if nothing had happened.

Niall was still frowning at him so hard that Andre knew he'd take his time answering so she answered quickly, flushing as he gave her his whole attention. She may not like him instinctively, but he _was _extremely good-looking. "I'm Andrea St. Clair and this is my brother, Niall. We're from America – New York to be exact."

"I see. Come on," he swept off like a lord of the castle, just expecting them to follow. Niall folded his arms, affecting a bored position and Andre stayed where she was. He was almost to the corner of the hallway before he realised they weren't following him like puppies.

"Well?" he turned to look at them as if they were half-witted.

No, Andre certainly did not like this guy. She reached up to casually smooth her hair with one miniature hand and pick imaginary lint off her new Chanel dress with the other. "Manners and a nice attitude wouldn't go amiss, you know."

That quickly, his smug smile and engaging grin turned into black scowl and his eyes turned cold. Andre didn't care, for some reason. However, she did care when he began walking purposefully towards them. He bypassed Niall who was glaring in a challenging way to grab her arm.

"Listen, little Miss Smarty-Pants, this is not your America. You don't rule this castle – I do. It would behove you to wipe that superiority and the 'I'm such a princess' look off your face before I make you regret it. And some respect wouldn't be out of place either."

His voice was silky soft, sending small little shivers all over her body. But she tried to pay him no heed. She didn't know who he thought he was but she hadn't sent him any disrespect – none that she knew anyway. "All I asked for was some courtesy. How is that disrespect?"

"You're new here, so I wouldn't expect you to understand. Let me enlighten you… Slytherin rules this school. Gryffindor comes in second. Hufflepuff is full of nitwits. And Ravenclaw if full of stuck-up, selfish brats like yourself."

"Hey! You don't know her!" Niall hissed. "I mean, you got it right, but you don't know her. You don't have the _privilege_ to be speaking to her like that… Head Boy my ass."

"It would be wise to keep your mouth shut firstie," Potter grinned slyly. "I'm a Seventh year – I could turn you into paste before you could blink."

"As if I'd let you!" Andre gasped.

"Look, just get us to where we're supposed to stay and then we'll solve this whole squabble by pretending not to know one another ever again, alright?" Niall stated in his Let's-get-this-over-with-because-I-have-better-things-to-do voice.

"Fine!" Potter hissed right on top of Andre's hair, "but don't you ever cross me, St. Clairs. You won't like the consequence."

"Like I have time with you," Andre snorted before she could stop herself, "I have better things to do."

For a moment, his grip tightened painfully and she could almost feel his stare get hotter, angrier. She was just tensing to wrench away when his hand loosened again, he stepped away and began pulling her off. "You can come if you want to St. Clair," he called back to her brother, "but I don't think anyone would mind you staying right there for the rest of your life – I certainly won't."

A moment later, her little brother was hurrying forward. Andre didn't dare say a word as they walked the darkened corridors. For one, they'd just unwittingly made an enemy… they didn't know this place but he did so he could do anything to them right now and get away with it. For two, his black scowl, dark angry eyes and evil temperament didn't invite conversation and Niall's furrowed brows, mean frown and clenched fists wasn't any better.

"Welcome to Ravenclaw," Potter said grandly as they approached a statue of a fierce eagle about ten minutes later.

"Huh?" Andre snorted. Didn't these people know about doors?

Potter stood directly in front the thing and said, mouth to beak, "The password is 'Luminox'."

The eagle spread it's giant wings, its eyelids blinked and its claws moved silkily as it walked away to reveal a small doorway. Potter opened it then waved her and her brother on, "In here."

Hesitantly, she did as he bid, walking into a room decorated in purple and black with just a touch of gold. The room was a little large, but still was about the size of her dad's new five car garage he'd built into the house they bought in Chelsea this summer. There was a large fireplace on one wall, complete with huge warm flames. Desks, chairs and sofas riddled the place and students in various stages of undress were everywhere, studying. Even on the floor.

Andre was horrified! The place was small enough for it to be slightly cramped with so many people, all temperamental, but to be studying at so late at night with such poor lighting! The castle was huge and she knew for a fact that some people in the Wizarding world were filthy rich. Couldn't they do something. There was no way she was going to endanger her precious eyes in this setting!

"What's wrong, Princess," Potter mocked nastily behind her as he and her brother followed her in, "too unsightly for your tastes?"

Not really, but she wouldn't tell him that. He already assumed she was stuck up and since she didn't think much of him either, she didn't care to correct him. But the light… hadn't these people learned to infuse technology with magic? Which reminded her… she reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone – the latest. She switched it on to see if it was working and she breathed a sigh of relief to see that it was. But then she saw her Service bar and she realised she was practically in the middle of nowhere!

"Niall!" she shrieked, "my phone doesn't work!"

"Well Dad did say this was going to be like jumping back in time," he said, taking out his own phone to check. Suddenly, Andre felt cut off from the world. But at least the thing was working.

Potter was looking at them curiously and a bit suspiciously, "What are you doing? What are those things?"

Seeing a chance to get one up on him, Andre played up to his ignorance. "Something too complicated for a _sophisticated_ wizard like you to get a grasp of." She looked at him like he was a particularly unsavoury bug, finding pleasure in his, once again, sudden scowl.

"Look, let's just get rid of you, and we'll be on our way," he sneered.

"Fine by me," Andre shrugged expectantly.

"The staircase on the right is the girls' dormitory," he said horridly. "Just walk on until you see 'Fifth Year' and the empty bed is yours. Your trunks should be unpacked by now too."

"Someone touched my clothes! My shoes! My jewellery!" she hyperventilated in seconds. Clothes and shoes to her were an obsession, especially designer wear.

"Well yes," the rat, Potter, snarled nastily. "How else would the elves had unpacked your precious belongings.

Still in the stages of hyperventilation, she quickly sent him a small, "Thanks, ever so much for being rude," and ran off, dodging surprised students on the way.

Behind her, she ignored his, "I hate girls like her" and some idiot's "Hey, who are you!"

While Andre headed for her precious clothes, Niall boardly looked to his fellow Housemate. Potter ignored him.

Instead, he called out, "Hey Everyone!" Immediately everyone in the room stopped talking and looked at them. Niall stared back.

"What's up, cousin?" chorused two voices, a boy and a girl who looked remarkably like twins yet weren't.

"Where's Elina?"

The boy half of the duet shrugged, "Dunno, probably with –"

" - Sam Finchly, -" continued the girl half.

" - Her boyfriend -" said the boy half.

Finished by, " - you know."

"I know," Potter sighed. "When she gets back, tell her that the transfers we've been expecting have arrived and one of them – a precocious, silly, little girl – has been sorted into Fifth Year Ravenclaw."

The two were grinning broadly, silent laughter written all over their faces. "Aw… is iccle-Lion-kins falling in love?"

"I am not!" he snapped. "She's enough to make me want to kill her!" With that, he turned way and stormed out. Reluctantly, Niall followed him. These people better treat his sister well or they'd find out that St. Clairs are not to be trifled with.

**AN: I know this whole thing is AU so I don't think anyone should be of a mind to complain of the Ravenclaw common room – you know, the entrance is described in Deathly Hallows. Great Book, wasn't it. **

**And in this chapter, somewhere, there is a word 'boardly'. I don't think that's a word, or at least, my computer doesn't recognise it. I used it anyway to describe Niall though. Hope you don't mind.**

**I know not many people read Percy in the first place and since DH is out and so much is… well, lets just say that I know not many people would be reading this, so if any of you **_**really**_** want me to continue, just send in a review and ask. Thanks!**


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"Hi, I'm, Elina Weasley!"

From packing her clothes, Andre looked at the doorway of the empty room. A tall, impeccably dressed, brown haired witch stood there, smiling at her. "Um, hi."

"My cousin, Lion, said that you're the transfers we've been expecting since last week," the girl chattered on. "You won't believe the joke you gave the school when McGonagall announced that we had transfers from New York only to realise that you weren't here yet! So what's your name?"

For a moment, Andre couldn't respond. She'd never expected this… she thought she'd have to be lonely a while before she made friends or something but here was an older girl talking to her as if they were already acquainted. She decided not to snub the olive branch – not that she wanted to. Elina seemed nice.

"I'm Andrea St. Clair," she said warmly, walking forward to clasp the other girl's hand. "But you can call me Andre. Only my Mum and Dad – _and that nasty Head Boy_ – call me Andrea."

The girl laughed. "That nasty Head Boy is my cousin, Lionel Potter." Andre scrunched up her face, a little ashamed for insulting Elina's cousin in front of her. "It's OK though. His father is the Wizarding Hero, Harry Potter, and his mother is a Slytherin, Pansy Parkinson. We all accept he's not too nice and stuff, but he is kind – the best friend you could have."

"Really?" Andre asked sceptically.

"Really," Elina giggled. "So I hear you two got off on the wrong foot, so to speak."

Andre shrugged. "He was rude, I told him so and then he upped the rudeness."

"But that's the thing," Elina laughed. "You don't tell Lion that he's rude."

"Well he was!" Andre insisted. If he was rude to her and her brother, then why not tell him so?

"Yes, well, Lion can be difficult but he'll get over it. Meanwhile, how about you come downstairs and meet people so tomorrow won't be too difficult for you."

The hat wasn't lying when it said Andre was a little shy. Right now, her insides cowered at going downstairs and being the centre of attention. She'd much rather stay up here and fiddle with her clothes. "I don't think so…"

"Come on!" Elina coaxed. "I'm Head Girl, you know. No one will dear say anything dreadful to you, you'll see. It'll be fine."

Andre still didn't want to go. She wasn't good at maintaining friends… She shook her head to Elina.

"Yes! There's nothing to be afraid of! I'll pester you until you do…"

She looked like she would. And Andre could hear laughter coming from downstairs. It was sort of tempting. "Alright."

"Right!" Elina shouted. She grabbed Andre's hand and pulled her out the door, mindless that her new friend had no shoes on – she'd kicked off her Marc Jacobs a while ago.

Downstairs, they stopped on the stairs and Andre fidgeted a little as she attracted attention. She hated attention. "Hey everyone!" the Head Girl shouted, "Meet Andrea St. Clair! She's the transfer we've been expecting!"

Immediately, the people who'd not noticed her before craned their necks to see her. She only just stopped herself from visibly squirming. Instead, she flushed and muttered, "Hi."

"Hello!" piped up three voices. The people who spoke approached her and in the same manner that Elina had approached her – as if they all knew each other. The three also had bright red hair and two of them, a boy and girl about her own age looked like twins yet different.

"This is Annabelle, Gavin and Freda. We're all Weasleys," Elina introduced.

The girl as short as Andre herself stuck out her hand. "I'm Annabelle, Elina's sister. I'm in third year."

"I suppose I'm in fifth year. You guys can call me Andre, though" Andre said, shaking Annabelle's hand and then Gavin's and Freda's, the look-a-likes. "Are you twins?" she asked bluntly and curiously.

"Sort of," Freda smiled, "Our fathers are twins –

"Fred and George Weasley -" picked up Gavin.

"My twin is Freya but she's in Gryffindor –"

"And mine, Gabe, is in Gryffindor as well -"

To conclude, the both chorused, "We're all in fifth year too."

"I see." What a delightful group of people!

"Is that your brother who left with Lion?" Annabelle asked suddenly with a slight blush. When Andre nodded, she whispered, "He's really cute."

She rolled her eyes. "Everyone thinks he's cute. Personally, I think he looks like a rich vagrant but whatever floats your boat. FYI, though – he's in first year and his head is as bloated as an inflatable boat."

Annabelle blushed harder, going an alarming shade of red that surprised Andre.

"FYI?" Freda asked, looking confused.

"An inflatable boat?" asked Gavin, a cute look in his face.

They must be pureblood. "FYI is short talk for 'For Your Info' and an inflatable boat is a boat you use an electric pump to blow up."

"Okay," the not-so-twins said, still looking confused.

"Are you muggle-born, then?" Elina asked.

"No. My Dad's a Wizard and my Mum's a muggle. Dad had nothing to do with magic though, until the Academy I used to go to came knocking on our door four years ago, demanding I start my Magical education."

"He had nothing to do with Magic!" Annabelle looked like she couldn't possibly imagine such a life.

Andre didn't care for that. The tone the girl used indicated that her father was nutter. Andre loved her father and in her mind, he could do no wrong. "He has no family other than us, you know. I suppose using magic reminded him of them or something. I dunno. But don't you dare even think that my Dad was mad to give up magic!" she glared.

"Alright, alright!" Elina placated.

"But why did the school have to come knocking on your door for you to go?" Gavin asked.

"Why couldn't they just send you a letter?" said Freda.

Andre rolled her eyes, "Because, for some reason Dad was intercepting them and hiding them from me. At the time, we didn't know he was a Wizard."

"Wow!" Elina sighed interestedly, like it was a nice romance. "What did he tell your Mum? Was she angry when she found out?"

"He'd told her when he asked her to marry him. Besides, my Mum's sister and cousin are witches. No one was really surprised – my Dad's special and it only made him more so."

Annabelle looked wistful. "You must really love your Dad. And he must spend a lot of time with you."

"Of course!" Didn't everyone's father live just to make his children happy? She asked, "Don't yours?"

"No," Elina shook her head. "Our Dad's an Auror. He's always off chasing bad guys and our Mum is Head of the Magical Library in Diagon Alley. They're always busy with their own lives."

"What do your parents do?" Annabelle asked.

Andre shrugged, feeling sorry for the Weasleys. "My Dad owns the Royal Arbitrary Bank of the World and my Mum teaches Languages at Muggle Universities."

The sisters stared. "Wow!" Freda said, "Your Dad owns _that_ bank and your Mum is a lecturer!"

"And they _still_ have time for you?" Elina gaped.

Andre shrugged again. Apparently this was unusual but that was how she grew up. Her parents loved all six…five… of their children and showed them how much all the time. Family was important.

For the next hour, she spent time getting acquainted with and meeting people. Some people said she looked familiar, but no one recognised her as a (slightly) famous movie star, so she was happy. She just hoped no one recognised her too soon.

***

The next morning, she wouldn't have gotten up even if the castle was coming down around her ears... Apparently Freda and the girls they shared their dorm with, Olga Fallon, Jacq Firth and Helena Haslan had different ideas, though. They decided it was their duty to drag her bodily out of bed and dump her into the shower.

Grateful, but disgruntled, she arrived downstairs in a sour mood, only to grow more so when she saw Lionel Potter sitting on a sofa with her brother. They both were surrounded by a gaggle of girls, with Potter looking pleased and smug at the attention but her little brother looking like he was one inch away from blasting off curses at the evil witches cooing at him, pinching his hair and patting his cheeks.

"What are you doing to my baby brother?" Andre snorted, enjoying Niall's discomfort but rescuing him out of sisterly duty.

"I'm not a baby!" he shouted.

"Yeah, whatever." The girls all scowled at her but moved away. Andre then looked away from her brother to the bane of her current existence, Lionel Potter. He was looking even more handsome, fit and … well, very nice. He was rude though, and the way his eyes just kept raking over her!

"What are you doing here?" she asked, affecting a bored look and a disdainful air – as if he was worth less than the dirt beneath her Dolce and Gabbana shoes.

In kind, he glared at her like he wanted to strangle her and hide the body. "Since I'm in the unfortunate position of Head Boy," he said silkily in a deep voice that threatened to melt her insides, "I must take you and your not-so-talkative brother here to the Great Hall. Elina's supposed to do it but she ran off with her boyfriend early this morning."

His grimace and the way he clenched his fists told her what he thought of that. Andre didn't feel sorry for him. "So are you going to take us to this 'Great Hall' or what?" 'Great Hall' just sounded like something out of Lord of the Rings and she just refrained from snorting. Her brother had no problems there though.

He laughed out loud through his nose. "What? Are we in Rivendell or something?"

"What?" Potter asked.

They both ignored him. "Beats me. I think I keep expecting Lord Elrond to come swooping down on me, asking 'Where is Frodo.'"

Her brother snorted harder.

Potter shook his head and stood. "Come on. I don't like you, Miss St. Clair and would like to get rid of you as soon as possible."

"Same here!" Andrea didn't like being told she wasn't liked, even if she knew it. She always refrained from outright hurting people too, but this guy was an exception. "I'd just love to get rid of you myself! I don't like you either, Potter, so let's just go!"

"Fine!" His dark green eyes clashed with her lighter ones and they could have stood there the whole day, battling, if someone hadn't knocked on the door and another deep voice called out, "Hey, Potter, you making out with that prefect you like so much or just wasting time scratching your arse?"

"Shut up, Malfoy!" Potter shouted back, looking like a storm cloud just came over him.

"Let's just go," Niall muttered. He jumped off the couch, grabbed her arm - causing her Chanel wristband to dig into her skin – and pulled her out of the common room.

Once outside, with her brother before her and Potter behind her, she found herself the focus of a lot of male attention. They were all tall, good-looking and wore green robes like her brother and Potter.

"Well hello," purred the one in front. He had deep silver eyes and red hair that was becoming glaringly familiar. Was everyone in this school a red-head. Previously, she'd thought the colour was rare since the only people she'd met with that hair colour were her Dad, her baby sister who'd died four years ago, and her twin baby brothers. Apparently it was rather common in England.

"Stop looking at my sister like that!" Niall commanded the four boys, all older and a lot taller than him. Still, he wasn't Niall St. Clair for nothing.

The red-haired guy surreptitiously draped his arm about her shoulders and pulled her close, leaning down the ten inches separating them to whisper loudly in her air, "I'm Castor Casmir Malfoy, sweetheart. What's your name?"

Despite herself, her precarious situation, her height and the glaring Head Boy behind her, Andre laughed. It was just too funny. Soon, Niall was laughing too and everyone was looking at them funny. It only heightened her laughter.

"Castor!" her brother gasped. "Honestly, Malfoy? Castor!"

Castor glared, "What's it to you, St. Clair?"

"Castor Oil! The best for the fastest cars!" Andre said through her laughter.

"Castor Oil?" Someone, later introduced as Jerry Davis, asked.

"It's a brand of car oil used in the Muggle world," Niall supplied.

"So you're Muggleborns then?" Castor sneered, kind of pulling away from Andre.

"No," she answered with attitude, hand on hip and everything. "My Dad's a Wizard; we're Half-bloods. What's it to you anyway?"

His engaging grin came back, but it wasn't as potent at Potters – pity, he was friendlier. "Nothing. Potter's Dad is a Half-blood too and my aunt Hermione – Elina's Mum – is a Muggleborn."

"Alright. I'm Andrea, by the way. But you can call me Andre." she invited. His grin widened and he wiggled his eyebrows.

Andre ignored him. Instead she asked, "How come you all have red hair? I didn't think it was so common but I've met four red-heads in just one day."

"And you'll met more," Potter said sourly, starting to stalk off, "Come on. They'll be late for breakfast."

"You see," Castor explained as they began to walk but she continued to glare at Potter's tall, dark form, "There's this family called the Weasleys. They're very famous because they had a very large part to play in the War twenty-one years ago. These Weasleys had six sons – one's dead now – and one daughter."

"Wait," Andre stopped him – she loved History, "The War? You mean the War with Moldy Old Voldemort?" He nodded. "My Dad lived here during that time. In fact, he left London in 1998 – the year of the war. I always asked him if he had anything to do with it, you know, if he fought, but he never answered me."

"There are ways to know," Castor says slyly. "The library has about a million books dedicated to the people who fought in the war – right down to the ones who only did so for about a day. It even has the spies and double agents and everything. If your Dad fought in it, however briefly, he'd be in there."

A brown haired boy to the side of Malfoy (Castor was just too funny for her) said, "You can be guaranteed. There's nothing hidden from that War now. It even has Cas' uncle, Percy Weasley. He was a spy Dumbledore planted in the Ministry for about four years. Dumbledore promised him he could reconcile with his family after the War ended but he died before anyone found out the truth."

Andre didn't understand anything he said, but it sounded interesting. And she did know a bit about Albus Dumbledore… he was the Wizard who orchestrated the War even after his death. In her limited knowledge, he was just a different version of Voldemort being ruthless in his own, non-murdering way. She vowed to go up there every chance she got to learn about the War. "What was the Truth?"

"Before Percy Weasley got his promotion at the Ministry of Magic, Dumbledore paid him a visit and told him to take it, that he'd be part of the Order of the Phoenix – secretly – of course, if he'd spy for him. When Percy took it, his parents were angry and he was angry at them for thinking he was only promoted so the Ministry could use him as leverage. They didn't even take into consideration that he deserved the position at all and that grated on him. Apparently he left the house that night. Then Dumbledore told him that he was to sever ties with his family and keep it that way until the end of the War. That it was the only way the people at the Ministry would trust him.

"Percy sort of went along with that, but it was only about a year later, at Christmas, that all ties were truly severed. Then about seven months after that, he was magically disowned. A year after that, though, Voldemort was defeated, Percy mysteriously died in a blow up at the Ministry, Weasleys cried, the truth came out and the Weasleys cried even harder."

"And that was it?" Andre asked.

"Yep! That was the fate of my dear Uncle Perce," Cas shrugged. "It's sad, but that was about five years before I was born. My older brother though, Duarte, was born barely two years after. He'd know more about the impact it had on the family."

"So about this Weasley family…" she asked, loosing interest in the sad fate of the dead uncle.

"Oh, well. The youngest and the only girl, is my mother – Ginevra Molly Malfoy. She married my Dad soon after the War ended – apparently she was among the few who knew at the time that he was a spy. They had Duarte, who is really blond like Dad, me – a red-head, Mienta and Reina, my sisters who are not at Hogwarts.

"Then Ron Weasley, who's Harry Potter's best friend and current Auror partner, married their other best friend, Hermione Granger and they have… you know, you'll find all this in a scroll somewhere in the library titled, 'The Weasleys and their Legacy'."

"Fine. I plan to visit this famous library anyway," Andre shrugged; she was already growing board with his litany anyway.

With that, they marched off into the Great Hall. To say that Andre and Niall were stunned was quite an understatement. In an effort to see everything at once, craning her neck all sides, she made a mistake of stumbling right into Lionel Potter who caught her, glared harder at her then shoved her as hard as he could to a long table with a banner marked 'Ravenclaw' over it.

Not surprising, he sat her next to Elina, Annabelle, Freda and Gavin and stalked off with Niall to the table quite close marked 'Slytherin'. She scowled after him.

"You don't like Lion?" Gavin observed, looking surprised. "Every girl he's ever met loves Lion!"

"Well not me!" she shrieked. "I've only known him a few hours and already I know he's a pompous, rude, self-absorbed ass!"

"Well not really," said Elina, eyeing her. "He is a pompous arse, and he is rude but he's the best cousin in the world! He listens when we want to talk and is not self-absorbed at all."

While Andre was aware of the fact that she'd already stereotyped him without knowing him, and he, her, she was willing to concede that she might be a little bit wrong about him. However that didn't mean she had to like him at all just because all his cousins thought the sun shone out of his butt.

"Wait a second, how come he's your cousin when his last name is Potter and your only aunt is married to Professor Malfoy?"

"Oh, it's simple really," said Freda.

"Harry Potter is sort of an adoptive child of our grandparents'" said Gavin.

"And he married Pansy Parkinson, Cas's father's best friend - "

"Therefore making them both honorary Weasleys!"

"Okay." Andre smoothed some butter on her toast. By the time breakfast was over, she'd met about a dozen other people as well as the rest of the Weasleys – all of whom were in Gryffindor. She met Gavin's and Freda's twins, Gabe and Freya, two just as lively red-heads with similar speech patterns. She met Brodick Weasley, who was in third year with Annabelle but apparently belonged to the uncle named Fred, making him Gabe and Gavin's brother. Then there was Elijah Weasley in second year, Freda and Freya's little brother.

And by the end of the week, she and Niall - who'd begun to speak to people other than her - were good friends with every one of them. Niall even liked Potter and Potter liked him back, but that was one person Andre just couldn't seem to like at all. Ditto for him.

By the middle of the next week, they'd made a comfortable niche for themselves. They were liked by the caustic, very handsome Head of Slytherin House and Cas' father, very well liked by Cas's beautiful Healer Mum, and since the Professor and his wife lived in Hogsmeades, Andre and her brother were invited over for lunch often – they weren't confined to the school.

Only sometimes did she regret leaving her previous school and friends but only because that had been a day school and she was in close contact with her parents and her brothers and sister. Also, she could have pestered her parents to help her with homework as well as for money and she could shop online for shoes, clothes, jewellery and anything else that caught her fancy. Being at Hogwarts was like being severed from her beloved parents as well as being cut off from the rest of the world.

There were compensations however. The food, the friends…. Quidditch. Niall had let slip that she had been a seeker in her other school and he'd decorated it with her achievements in the American National Sports Association where she'd captained her school team to make it to the finals one year as well as to win the annual national prize the other three years in a row. Thus ended her reign as National Quidditch Champion – she'd moved to Hogwarts.

And someone had finally recognised her. One morning, after a really loud fight with Lionel Potter (honestly, the joke was spread throughout Wizarding England that the Great Hero, Harry Potter, had a son called Lion firmly ensconced in the Snake Pit) she'd entered the Great Hall and some nitwit from Hufflepuff had suddenly stood on his seat and shouted, "I knew I remembered you! You stared in the Muggle movies '_Read 'Em And Weep_', '_Hunting Dove_', '_The Door of Secrets_', '_Love, Life and Children_' and '_The Secret Garden IIIV_'. Merlin, _you're_ _Andrea St. Clair_!"

At that, the hall had erupted in whispers and she'd shot back out. She'd had enough grief from her old Primary School as well as from the Academy for becoming a movie star at the age of five until she finally quit at thirteen when the pressure was just too much. Support from her family was one thing but the ribbing she'd had to put up with was too much.

Once again, when she'd nearly bumped into Potter in the corridor, she wished she'd been a normal kid and not an athlete or a movie star. He'd looked at her accusingly and she didn't know why that hurt. Then he'd bodily shoved her aside, his mouth clenched for some reason, muttering, "Little bitches like you don't know how to live the real life. No wonder I can't stand you – you a walking talking Muggle Barbie doll."

She'd run off to cry and hide but the two twins found her and the entire Weasley clan – add Cas Malfoy but minus Lionel Potter – had taken about an hour to cheer her up as well as to question what being a famous Muggle movie star was like (they watched TV a lot) as well as what was filming a movie like.

So when it came down to it, there were some rough spots in this new school but her friends, the Malfoy family and much long distance corresponding with her family all helped her to smooth it over and enjoy the experience. The only ones she felt like killing was seventeen-year-old Potter and the gloating girlfriends he seemed to change every three weeks. Luckily there were only about eleven weeks of school and Potter hardly had time to spend with said girlfriends – he studied hard and spent the majority if his free time with his cousins and friends.

At least that was one (or several) strikes in his favour.

**AN – A red-haired Malfoy! How cute is that? Lucius must have been rolling over and over and grumbling in his grave for the past… oh, about twenty years.**

**Sorry I didn't update in a while. I had some problems with the password n i started university so I'm swamped. Sorry to keeping you waiting.**

**Remember to Review!**

**SSK Felton.**


	4. Chapter 3

A/N : Hi. I know I've been AWOL for a long time. It's just that I had University to deal with, as well as the fact that I lost the memory stick with all my writings on it and couldn't be bothered to write over anything. Also, I kind of lost interest in this story because of the ending of Harry Potter; the whole story is over so the Harry Potter series is done for me. But for you loyal people who actually want to read about Percy Weasley, here's an update.

Enjoy!

Chapter 3

**Late November 2019 – Diagon Alley**

West St. Clair, great and famous Banker, toddled down the magical street of Diagon Alley with a five months old baby on his shoulder. He still, after nearly eighteen years living as a Muggle and five of those training his kids in the Magical Arts, couldn't understand Samara's love for anything magical.

When he'd embraced his magical side after Andrea went to the Academy, his wife had let loose. She wanted to see everything Magical, she wanted to eat Magical food, she wanted Magical paintings in their house, she wanted Magical food…. The list just went on. Now, after giving him two months to settle back in his home country, she had him out shopping for groceries in Magical London. What was wrong with the Muggle groceries for heaven's sake?

His little son gurgled in agreement (or so he'd like to think) and kicked his tiny feet. Still, as much as he wanted to think this half of his twin sons was agreeing to every work his Daddy thought, Zach had his gaze firmly fixed on a tall witch with a tall hat to the side. She was holding a remembrall and it was growing bright red.

Zach kicked his feet again and laughed his delightful baby laugh. Nope, he was definitely not agreeing with his Daddy. If anything, he was on his Mummy's side.

A few steps later, Zach was silently laughing and reaching out from the security of his father's arms towards a wizard practising spells for sale, then some witches who were selling some sort of potions ingredient that moved. When he approached the Diagon Alley branch of Weasley's Wizarding Weezes, his son turned fully in his arm to gaze, ruptured, at all the animation happening in the windows.

Being the doting father that he was, he tampered down on his misgivings about being so close to something of his previous life, and stood close to the windows to let Zach have his fill of delight.

His baby was cooing at a wand that continually wiggled, turned into a burst of red sparks then a yellow duck that quacked at him before turning back and starting all over again. While Zack waved his arms, kicked his feet and squirmed in laughter, West mentally went over the list Mara had given him.

He had the sleeping draught and cough draught for Zane's, Zach's younger twin's, cold. He had gotten the Mystical Magical Maple Syrup for his nine years old daughter, Vallera, plus some Ollie's Chocolate for the Soul she was so craving. He'd also gotten Nina's Nitetime Cleansing Solution and a Dust No More solution for the house his wife did no amount of cleaning in – because they had maids.

Now all he had to get was a couple of school robes each already ordered for his eleven years old son and fifteen years old daughter, their pets – which they'd written home about and demanded, - two large bags of snacks to keep them and their multitude of friends happy, and apparently, two pairs of different types of shoes as well as a new invisible cushion for Andrea since the one on her Quidditch broom was getting a little rough.

Plus he had to withdraw about two hundred gallons each to distribute their weekly allowance for the next three weeks.

His kids were hell, he could say that for sure. But they were rather nice and loving while they were being little devils and West wouldn't change them for anything. If only Bindi were alive, then everything in his world would have been perfect.

Suddenly, to their left, the door to the joke shop his brothers owned tinkled as it opened. West's breath caught and his heart nearly stopped. A pair of red-haired twins (orange-haired, really), came out with bright smiles on their faces, their gazes firmly fixed on Zach. West quickly, quietly and desperately sent up a prayer to the deities; his brothers _must not_ recognise him!

Since Percy could always tell the twins apart – something he'd learned as a defence mechanism, poor as it was, against their tormenting – he knew that Fred was the one who reached them first with George only two seconds behind.

"Ohh, what a cute baby!" Fred cooed, tickling Zach with one finger on his tummy. Zach laughed, this time making a lot of welcoming noise.

"Cute, cute baby. Yes you are," George cooed, ruffling his baby's red hair.

"He's adorable!" Fred exclaimed, not having lifted his face from admiring Zach yet.

"We hope you don't mind," said George, holding out a little teddy and tickling Zach's nose with it.

West said nothing. He couldn't. His mouth felt as dry as cotton and it was as if something was lodged in his throat.

"Here, we brought a little toy for the young man," his brother continued.

"Couldn't resist a cute baby like this one," Fred said.

"Especially when he's admiring our window," laughed George.

Finally, West unglued his mouth enough to force out, "Well there's another one of him and I'm afraid Zach and Zane don't like to share."

"Golly, TWINS!" George and Fred both shouted. They jumped a little as if that was the most important information they'd heard in a while.

George then turned back to the shop, opened the door and yelled, "MUM! Get us another exploding bear, will you?"

As he was doing so, scaring West slightly with the 'exploding bear', Fred finally looked up, saying, "So which one is…." His brother's eyes widened, his mouth clamped shut, the smile fell off his face and he went pale.

West tried not to squirm. Even after all these years, his brothers still had an effect on him.

Trying not to give himself away, he pretended he didn't realise anything was wrong. "These exploding bears don't actually explode, right?" he asked, lifting the white and gold tiny bear to wave it in Fred's face.

He blinked. The paleness didn't leave and he didn't unglue his gaze from West's face for a moment. His voice was also a little strained when he said, "What? No."

Joining them, George was saying, "They just burst into a shower of butterflies for about an hour or so when you squeeze it around the middle."

He had been looking at Zack when he spoke but then he glimpsed at West's face. He did a double take.

West tried not to gulp. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"PERCY!" Molly Weasley, still short and plump, was looking a little less worn and worried. She was also without the sad, disapproving look she wore the last few times he'd seen her. "PERCY!"

She launched herself at him and he didn't even realise when he took a hasty step back. She just kept coming though. Zach, however, came to his father's rescue. He let out a wail so loud and scared that some glass inside the shop rattled. That stopped Percy Weasley's mother. She glanced down at Zach, then back up at West then down again.

"Oh, Percy, he's beautiful!"

Since his daughter didn't get her famous acting skills from nowhere, West performed as if there was no knot in his belly and his heart wasn't jumping a mile a minute. He made sure to give her a look that indicated he thought her mad before turning back to the twins. He also played up his mixed British and American accent. "I'm sorry, what's she talking about?"

"Percy, I'm your MOTHER!" she shouted, looking as if she'd reach up and box his ears any moment now. Zach cried harder.

"You must be mistaken," he was sure to choke out a small laugh.

"How _dare_ you speak to your mother like that?" she raged, tears welling up in her eyes.

"I don't have a mother," He said slowly, as if trying to get through to a mad woman, "I never did." It was true. Once upon a time, Percy Weasley had a mother. West St. Clair never did.

"Oh my God," she cried, "My baby! How could you, Percy! How could you."

Desperately, he looked at the silent twins, "Please, I'm not Percy. My name is West."

George, white faced and sad, hugged their mother tightly, letting her sob through his robes. Fred apologetically said, "I'm sorry. It's just that you look like our dead brother Percy. Or rather what he would have looked like if he'd survived the war - right down to the red curls, blue eyes, whitish pink skin…" his eyes narrowed suspiciously, "...that scar on your forehead I gave _him_ when we were starting Hogwarts…"

West _just_ refrained from touching said scar, small as it was, on the middle of his forehead. Quickly, he said, "Look, I'm sorry for your loss but my name is not Percy. I'm not your brother."

Fred nodded. George looked at him searchingly, honing in on the tiny, circle scar on his forehead.

"I must get going," West said fast, "my wife and kids are sick at home." Without waiting for a reply, he began rocking Zach as he stalked off.

One of the twins stopped him with a shout, "What did you day your name was again?"

He turned back, "West."

"Well, West," George said in a hard voice full of suppressed emotions, "Here's your babies' toy." He tossed another one of the exploding bears which West deftly caught. Both Fred and George's eyes lowered onto their sobbing mother; Percy couldn't catch a thing if it was thrown two feet from his face.

West, however, had learned how to do a lot of things these last twenty-two years.

***

"IT WAS HIM!" Molly Weasley, old and greying, shouted down her husband.

Arthur Weasley, even more old and greying watched his wife pityingly, shaking his head. "Molly, sweetheart, Percy is dead. _He is dead_ Molly and no amount of wishful thinking will get him back. It's been twenty-one years," he added tiredly.

"You have to admit, Dad," said one of the twins sitting at the dinner table, "it sure looked like him. He looked exactly as Percy did before he died and all – older of course."

"And he had that exact same scar we gave him in our first term at Hogwarts," said the other twin.

"Be real," Arthur refuted with a sort of desperate smile, "There are millions of people in the world; anyone of them could have a similar scar on their forehead."

"Yes, Arthur," Molly agreed tearfully, "But how many has that exact same shape and colour in the exact same position?"

"Yeah," chorused the twins.

"Molly, you'd drive yourself crazy!" Arthur pleaded. She'd been doing this for years.

"Oh, Arthur, I think I'm right this time. It looked exactly like him! I know my baby!"

"Alright, Alright," Arthur hugged her close and also a little sadly. He so badly wanted this to be true – that Percy was alive and out there somewhere. He'd regretted, from the instant the words were on paper, that he'd disowned his own son but such a thing could not be changed. And anyway, Molly had been wrong before; Percy Weasley had died long ago – he wasn't to be found among the living.

"Go owl your brothers and sister," he told the twins. He didn't really want to call the family together for what was sure to be a false alarm _again_. But he had to get the twins out of the room before his eyes started watering… Arthur Weasley, former Minister for Magic, still had to retain some dignity – even in front of family.

*_._*_._*_._*

That evening, in a large house in Hogsmeade, Ginny Malfoy was having a peaceful dinner with her husband - the DADA professor, her children and their friends. While she spoke softly to Draco about a fatally injured patient at St. Mungos that she was treating, she kept an eye on them all. So far they all seemed to be getting on nicely; no pranks and hurt feelings anywhere.

Her oldest by three years, Duarte, and her sixteen year old son, Cas, were speaking quietly to Andrea St. Clair – probably questioning her on her history as an actress – and Duarte was bouncing her youngest child, eight year old Reina, on his knee. Beside them, ten years old Mienta had latched onto an uncomfortable Niall St. Clair and didn't look like she was going to be done with him any time soon.

Everything seemed to be going well. Not like last time when Lion was here as well and sent Andrea running off in tears – which then had Niall firing hexes at him and Duarte yelling at the top of his lungs for them all to quit it. Cas had not helped any as he'd stood laughing then tackled Niall to the floor while Duarte took care of their brash cousin. And Mienta had run off hiding while Reina had burst into tears – calculated to bring guilt to all the other teens in the room off course.

While she listened to her husband go on about Lionel Potter's arrogant, self-important, I-own-Hogwarts behaviour in a covertly fond voice which conveyed irritation to anyone who didn't know him, the Weasley family owl flew in through the window.

All eight people at the Malfoy dinner table watched Ursela, a descendant of Pig, fly in through the window and crash land face first into the bowl of mash potatoes.

"Mum, Gran must really get another owl," Duarte eyed the bird with disgust.

"I think she's cute!" Andrea chimed in, reaching to pull Ursela out of the goo before she choked.

Cas rolled his eyes and Niall muttered, "You would."

Andrea just glared at them both and smiled sweetly at the owl.

"Stop that now," Ginny ordered. "You all know that your grandmother would not have used Ursela if the news wasn't important."

"Yes," Draco said dryly, getting up to get rid of the potatoes. "Ursela is fast but she is imcbecilic!"

"She just needs a crash course in crash landing," Andrea cooed, petting the unconscious bird's brown and grey fur. Draco glared at her. She grinned back at him. Ginny smiled; it didn't escape her that Andrea had a small crush on her husband, and having dinner with them all once a week was making his black stare and scowl useless against her and her brother. It made Draco peeved.

"Well," her blond, too handsome for the world husband urged her, "open it and see what's the fuss this time."

Quickly, Ginny scanned the letter then groaned – her mother was at it again. She passed the letter to her husband to read and swiped her hand over her face distressingly; will it never be over? Any red haired, blue eyed man that she wasn't related to was automatically claimed as Molly Weasley's third son.

* * *

**A/N**: So… some people expressed confusion about the families. Here's something to clear the air.

**Families**

_** Westley and Samara St. Clair **_

**Andrea St. Clair (2004)** (Ravenclaw)

**Niall St. Clair (2008)** (Slytherin)

**Varella St. Clair (2010)**

**Bindi St. Clair (2012 – 2015)**

**Zach and Zane St. Clair (2018)**

_**Harry and Pansy Parkinson-Potter **_

**Lionel Potter (2002) **(Slytherin)

_**Draco and Ginevra Malfoy **_

**Duarte Daim Malfoy ****(2000)**

**Castor Casmir Malfoy (2003) **(Slytherin)

**Mienta Mirah Malfoy (2009)**

**Reina Roshan Malfoy (2011)**

_**Ronald and Hermione Weasley**_

**Elina Weasley (2002)** (Ravenclaw)

**Annabelle Weasley(2006)** (Ravenclaw)

**Ritchie Weasley (2010)**

_**Fred and Angelina Weasley **_

**Gabe **(Gryffindor)** and Gavyn Weasley **(Ravenclaw)** (2004)**

**Brodick Weasley (2006) **(Gryffindor)

**Sarah Weasley (2014)**

_**George and Alicia Weasley **_

**Freya **(Gryffindor) **and Freda Weasley **(Ravenclaw)** (2004)**

**Elijah Weasley (2007)** (Gryffindor)

**Daria Weasley (2013)**

_**Charlie and Nadira Weasley**_

**Amita Weasley (2005)**

**Indar Weasley (2012)**

_**Bill and Fleur Weasley **_

**Silvain Weasley**** (2005)**

**Celeste Weasley (2010)**


End file.
